Reverie

Working on flower photos yesterday felt like a kind of

with the soft flower photographs revealing more about the essence of beauty the longer I gazed at them. I still haven’t finished editing all of the photos I made on Sunday. And I’m not done discovering what they have to say to me. It’s such a luxury having so many images to contemplate and dream upon.

My peonies began opening yesterday and I look forward to photographing them later today. Early this morning I picked a bunch of them before the heat wilted them. I was going to go on a photo hike with some members of my photo club at the Sherburn National Wildlife Area this morning but we canceled the hike because of the heat and humidity.

I was relieved because I didn’t want to miss the hike but I also didn’t want to brave the heat.

Meanwhile I continue

Dreaming of Beauty

as dame summer blesses us with an abundance of blossoms and green dreams of trees and fields everywhere I look. I am letting the flowers and trees be my muse as they reveal their inner wisdom and essence.

Dreams

All night

the dark buds of dreams

open

richly.

In the center

of every petal

is a letter

and you imagine

if you could only remember

and string them all together

they would spell the answer.

It is a long night,

and not an easy one—

you have so many branches,

and there are diversions—

birds that come and go,

the black fox that lies down

to sleep beneath you

the moon staring

with her bone-white eye.

Finally you have spent

all the energy you can

and you drag from the ground

the muddy skirt of your roots

and leap awake

with two or three syllables

like water in your mouth

and a sense

of loss—a memory

not yet of a word,

certainly not yet the answer—

only how it feels

when deep in the tree

all the locks click open,

and the fire surges through the wood,

and the blossoms blossom.
― Mary Oliver, Dream Work